


If You Must Mourn (Don't Do It Alone)

by supreme_genius



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Blood, F/M, Gen, Mild Language, Please Don't Hate Me, Sexual Content, fic picks up right after the death, no character dies in the fic, sticks with canon until s4e21, this is basically the characters dealing with the aftermath, very brief and vague mentions of violence, very mild spoilers for s4e21
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-03-30 04:26:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3922846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supreme_genius/pseuds/supreme_genius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is silence. Everyone is in shock; they never thought this is how it would end; most of them kept holding on to hope.<br/>Everyone stands around the room just watching them. No one knows what to say. No one knows what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Grimm.  
> I make no monetary gain from this.  
> This is unbeta'd.  
> Title is from Keaton Henson's "You".
> 
> Again, there is no [what I will call] on-screen death in this fic. If you read between the lines, you'll know what happened. This fic picks up with the aftermath and deals with the characters mourning. I know not many (if any at all) will tackle this, but you know me. I can't help myself.
> 
> If you want to know who died, see the note at the end.

Nick stands there, just staring down at the body. Even as the blood oozes towards him, finally touching his boots, he does not move. First, there is silence. Everyone is in shock; they never thought this is how it would end; most of them, especially Rosalee, kept holding on to hope. Then, Nick is vaguely aware of a voice. He cannot tell what it is saying; he does not really care either. But it is a familiar voice, a comforting voice.

“Nick,” the voice says. “Nick!”

It is not until there is a hand on his shoulder and the voice is right by his ear that he remembers who it belongs to.

“Nick,” Trubel says, almost pleading. “Nick, look at me. Say something. Please.” Her voice cracks on the last word.

Finally, Nick moves. At first, he just turns his head towards her. He looks right at her, but does not see her; he’s still in a daze. But the more he hears her voice, the more the haze at the edge of his vision clears, until his body finally gives in and steps towards her.

Everyone stands around the room just watching them. No one knows what to say. No one knows what to do. Monroe looks down at Rosalee, who cannot stop crying. He reaches out and pulls her close to his chest; she tucks her head under his chin and sobs into his jacket. Hank and Wu exchange nervous glances, and Hank keeps looking outside, checking for Renard’s SUV to pull up.

Nick feels as though his body weighs a ton, like he is going to crumble under the weight. He leans towards Trubel, who does her best to support his weight. Eventually, she pulls him towards the sofa -- one of the few clean spots left in the room -- and holds him close. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, and she can hear him quietly cry. Her heart fills with guilt.

“I’m sorry, Nick,” she says. “I’m so sorry. She was… I…” She pauses, trying not to cry. “She was gonna kill you. I couldn’t let her hurt you anymore.” Her arms wrap more tightly around Nick, as if trying to keep him from running away from her, from what she did.

No one is sure how much time has passed, but then Renard is pulling up outside, and Hank and Wu meet him out front to explain what happened. Then, Rosalee pulls away from Monroe and runs outside, no longer able to stand in that room. Monroe, of course, follows her.

When it’s just Nick and Trubel left, he finally pulls away, sits up, and speaks. “I know.” He rubs his hands over his face. “And I’m sorry you had to. I’m sorry it ever went this far. I’m sorry I dragged you back into this. I’m sorry I ever dragged her into this.” He sighs and the breath comes out shaky. “You asked what we should do and I said ‘kill her.’” Nick pauses, considering if he really wants to say the last thing that is on his mind. “I guess I just thought I’d be the one to do it, or that maybe I would have some closure when it was done.”

“I’m sorry. I know you probably could’ve handled her, but I just couldn’t take the chance. She was so strong and you were on the ground and…”

Nick interrupts her, “Thank you.”

“What?”

“Thank you, for everything. When I lost my powers, you were there for me; you were my eyes into this world. When I needed you to help Josh, you were there for him. And now, when I needed someone the most, you were here for me; you saved my life.” Nick looks away. He had had a moment with Trubel right before she left, when he gave her Marie’s truck, but this one is far more intimate – almost too much to handle.

Trubel opens her mouth to speak, but the words fail to come out. Instead, she closes the gap between them again and wraps her arms around his neck. After her parents died, she was not much of a hugger; she hated most physical contact that was not fighting. But since she has befriended Nick, she is warming back up it.

When Trubel hears the front door open, she pulls away.

“So,” Renard says, “what do you want to do about this?”

Nick shrugs. “I have no idea.”

“I do,” Trubel says, and Renard and Nick both raise an eyebrow. “All those people were here. They were royals and you arrested one, right?”

“Yes. Prince Kenneth is in custody,” Renard says.

“A lot of this is his fault; let’s make him pay for it.”

Renard nods, liking the idea. “What do you think, Nick?”

“I think it’s a good idea.”

“Alright, I’m going to tell Hank and Wu to go home and wait for the call from the station. I’ll take Monroe and Rosalee home and then go back to my place. You two, stay here. Theresa, you call the police and report the incident. Nick, act distraught when they get here. Stay out of the living room; you want it to look like you can’t stand to be in the house, let alone this room. Say you two were out catching up and that’s why you got home late. We’ll say there was someone here when you got home and you fought with them – that’ll explain the cuts and bruises. He had a mask on, so you couldn’t see his face to give a description.”

Trubel and Nick both nod, getting up and walking into the kitchen. When Renard walks out, he tells the others about the plan and sends them all on their way.

Trubel pulls her phone out of her pocket and finally notices the time; it’s after midnight. She dials 911 and follows the plan.

When they hear the sirens get close, Trubel kicks Nick in the shin, bringing tears to his eye, and then she presses a few fingers into one of her bruises, bringing tears to her own eyes. She pulls Nick close, and they hope like hell it’s all convincing.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Rosalee, will you just talk to me?” Monroe pleads, “Please, just tell me what you’re feeling.”

Monroe has never seen Rosalee this upset; she has been crying for hours, not saying anything. It is getting to a point where Monroe has to remind himself how much he loves her so he does not just freak out. He wants so badly to help Rosalee through this, but how can he if he does not know what it is about this situation that is bothering her most?

“This isn’t like you; I’ve never seen you this upset, not even with the Wesenrein stuff.” He sighs. “I know I can’t make you talk to me, but please don’t shut me out. I’m your husband; I love you and I care about you. Seeing you this hurt is killing me.” Finally, he gets up and starts to walk out of the bedroom. “I’m gonna make some tea. I know you won’t drink it, but I’m gonna bring you a mug anyway.”

After putting the kettle on the stove, Monroe sits down at the table. He feels as though his body is being crushed, as though it is just too heavy for him to support. Briefly, an image of Hap and Angelina flashes in his mind and he remembers that this is what overwhelming grief feels like. Except, this grief is not necessarily for Juliette -- well, not the Juliette as of late. His grief is for the bubbly redheaded woman he met years ago after he struck up a weird friendship with a baby grimm. His grief is for Nick, who watched the woman he loves spiral out of control, turn into a completely different person, and, ultimately, meet a rather grim demise; it is also for Nick, who just lost his mother for the second time, in a truly grisly way. His grief is for Trubel, who is so young but has lived so much; who had to give in to her most natural, grimm instincts and put an end to an out-of-control wesen, who happened to be like family to her. But most of all, his grief is for his wife, who is drowning in her own grief for the best friend she did not just lose tonight but lost weeks ago when all this started.

Monroe pulls his phone out of his pocket. His fingers hover over the letters as he tries to find the right words. He lets out a dry laugh, knowing no words are the right words. He types “Just wanted to check on you” and hits send. As much as he wants to go see his best friend, he knows his wife needs him more.

His phone chimes and Nick’s reply reads, “Thanks. I’m okay. Police are still here. You okay? Rosalee?”

Not wanting to burden Nick, Monroe just says, “We’re okay. Talk tomorrow.”

The kettle whistles and Monroe gets up, puts a tea bag in each of the mugs, and then pours the water. He lets them steep a while before grabbing both mugs and walking back upstairs and into the bedroom. When he walks in, he’s surprised to see that Rosalee has finally stopped crying. Her eyes are still puffy and her cheeks are still damp, but she has stopped crying. Monroe is surprised again when Rosalee takes the mug he offers and takes a sip. Without a word, Monroe sits down on his side of the bed, sipping his tea, waiting for when Rosalee is finally ready to speak.

“I’m sorry,” Rosalee says, her gaze set on the mug she is holding.

“For what?” Monroe turns and looks at her. “Rosalee, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I shouldn’t have shut you out like that.”

“But --”

“Please let me finish.” She waits for Monroe to nod before continuing. She opens her mouth, trying to say the name, but it fails to come out. Taking a deep breath, she tries again. “Juliette was the first person I lost since my brother. She and I were much closer; she was the closest thing I had to a best friend since I was a teenager.” She fiddles with the string on the tea bag. “It was all so overwhelming; everything was so sudden. One minute everything is fine, then I’m visiting her in jail, and then… I just never thought this is how it would end. I kept hoping she would listen to me, to Nick, to any of us. I kept hoping we could help her be Juliette again.”

“So did I, mostly for Nick’s sake. I feel like a jerk; I never really considered what all this was doing to you.”

“It’s okay, Monroe. I didn’t either until tonight. I still just kept hoping, until…” She pauses to clear her throat. “I feel like we should have done more. I know there was nothing else to do, especially after what she did to Nick’s mother.” Tears well up in her eyes and she turns to Monroe. “Oh god, Nick. His mother. His girlfriend.”

Just as the tears start to roll down Rosalee’s cheeks, Monroe wipes them away. “Right now, I’m more worried about you. Nick will be okay; he’s got Trubel with him.”

“We should at least text him.”

“I did while I was waiting for the kettle. He’s okay. The police are still there.”

Rosalee nods.

“He asked if you were okay.”

Rosalee manages a small smile and when it fades, she asks, “What about you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Monroe leans over and presses a kiss to Rosalee’s forehead. “I’ll be fine.”

“I feel like this is never gonna go away, that none of us are ever going to get passed this.”

“We will, Rosalee. We just have to be there for each other. It might take a long time, but I think everyone will be fine.”

“Monroe, how are you so okay?”

Monroe looks away briefly before answering, making sure his composure will not falter. “I’ve lost a lot of people in my life. I’m not saying it makes it easier, but it puts life in perspective. Really, I think there are only two people I could lose that would leave me completely hopeless.”

“And who are they?”

“You, of course.” Monroe sighs, taking a moment just to look at his wife. Finally, he says, “The other is Nick, which is part of why I’m holding it together. I’m just… I’m just glad it wasn’t him tonight.”

“So am I. I have to admit, I’d be pretty devastated if something happened to him. You really think he’s gonna be okay?”

“I’ve been worried about you all night, but in the few moments I thought of anything else, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was gonna be okay. Now that I think about it, I think he will be. I think knowing he got some kind of vengeance for his mother will outweigh his grief. Plus, now he knows he has someone who is actually willing kill to keep him safe -- he knows it isn’t just talk.”

After setting her mug on the nightstand, Rosalee leans over against Monroe’s shoulder, and he wraps his arm around her. She wishes Monroe had brought coffee rather than tea because she knows as soon as she falls asleep, she is going to relieve the night. She wishes she would have run into that room just five seconds later and seen only the aftermath. But most of all, she wishes she could have done more.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Nick and Trubel sit on the queen-size bed in their good-enough-for-the-night motel room, eating (read: picking at and pretending to eat) fast food burgers and fries. Despite their lack of appetite, they have each downed at least half of their respective milkshake.

Trubel finally breaks the silence. “You talk to anyone yet?”

Nick nods, grabbing his shake and washing down his mouthful of food. “Just Monroe -- he text me while we were still at the house.”

“Is he okay? What about Rosalee?”

“He said they’re okay.”

“You sound like you don’t believe him.”

“I don’t,” he starts. “Maybe Monroe is okay, but Rosalee was close to her.”

“She wouldn’t stop crying.” Trubel looks away. “I feel guilty,” she says, voice low, but unmissed by Nick’s enhanced hearing.

“You shouldn’t. You did what the rest of us couldn’t. You, uh… You did exactly what a grimm is supposed to.”

“Then why do I feel so bad?”

“I should have told you.” Nick frowns. “I didn’t even know you were coming.”

“Monroe didn’t tell you?” Trubel says and Nick shakes his head. “I guess that explains why you looked so surprised.”

“So, Monroe didn’t tell you what was going on?”

“Nope. He only said you were in trouble and needed me.”

“I should have called you, even aside from this.”

“Yeah, you should have.” Trubel grins, attempting to lighten the mood; it works -- Nick smiles back, small, but a smile nonetheless.

“You could have called me, ya know.”

“I know,” Trubel says softly.

It is quiet between them for a while as they pick at the rest of their food. Trubel turns on the television, settling on what looks like some cheesy soap opera. A few minutes later, both Trubel and Nick are staring wide-eyed at what turns out to be porn. When Trubel is finally capable of words again, she mumbles an “oops” and turns off the television.

When the initial awkwardness wears off, she says, “I have no idea how anyone can bend like that.” It makes both of them laugh hysterically, somehow managing to make them both forget about the earlier part of the night.

When they both calm down, Trubel breaks the silence once again. “So, can I address the elephant in the room?”

Nick nods, knowing it is better to just rip off the band aid now.

“Are you okay?”

Nick thinks for a moment before answering. “As okay as I can be. I feel a lot of things right now. I know it’ll take time to sort through it all.”

Trubel nods, encouraging him to continue.

“Of course I wish things would have gone differently, but I guess I’m glad it’s mostly over. I know I sound like an asshole, but…” He sighs. “I lost Juliette the day I became a grimm. I lost her again when I decided I wanted my powers back. Again when she became a hexenbiest. Tonight, though…it was like the end of a brutal saga.

“I know I’m not just going to wake up tomorrow morning and magically be okay. I think what I need for now is to just not wake up in that house. If I stay there, it’s only going to keep hurting. Not just because of Juliette, but because of…“ Nick balls his hands into fists. “I _just_ got my mom back. I thought she was dead for eighteen years. This was a second chance at having a family and Juliette took that away from me. She earned my mother’s trust and then used it against her.”

“Just because none of us are blood-related, doesn’t mean we aren’t your family. I can only really speak for myself, but I’m sure everyone would agree -- Monroe, Rosalee, Hank, Bud.”

Nick only nods, knowing that if he speaks, his voice will crack. He take a moment to gather his composure. “Thanks. And I, uh, just want to apologize for back at the house. I really lost it; I was just in shock. For a minute, all I could see what the old Juliette -- the one I met four years ago.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for that, Nick.”

“I guess I just don’t want you to think I hold any of it against you.”

“I know.” Eventually Trubel adds, “It’s okay to miss her. Even though what she did was unforgivable, she was still someone you loved.”

“I know. I think before I can really deal with that grief, I need to deal with losing my mom.”

“Well, of you need to talk it out, I know what it’s like.”

Nick frowns. He’d almost forgotten that Trubel had lost both her parents to this world; if anyone could possibly understand how he feels, it is her.

“Ya know, when my Aunt Marie first came back, right when she first told me about being a grimm, she said I had to leave Juliette. Then my mom basically said the same thing. They said I would end up losing her to this world. I guess I should have listened to them.”

“There’s no way anyone could have seen this coming. Besides, love makes you stupid, clouds your judgment.”

“Oh yeah? What do you know about love? You’re only twenty-two.”

“You have no idea.” Changing the subject, she says, “I’m kind of surprised about how okay you are right now.”

“I guess it’s just sort of still surreal. Maybe in a couple days I’ll be so devastated I won’t get out of bed. Who knows?”

Trubel shrugs.

“Hey,” Nick says as he reaches out, fingers brushing Trubel’s shoulder.

She turns and looks up at him, eyes filled with sadness but not tears.

“Are _you_ okay?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I know it’s probably weird talking to me, but you can.”

“Thanks.” Trubel attempts a small smile and then turns her attention to a string hanging from the hem of her shirt.

“What was your mom like?” Nick asks, hoping he is not crossing a line, just wondering what moms are like since he barely knew his own.

Trubel smiles. “The best. I mean, I know most people say that, but she really was.” Trubel’s eyes dart up to the ceiling, trying to chase away the tears she is anticipating. “She was an artist -- drawing, painting, even pottery; she did it all. She used to make up stories to tell me at bedtime and she would draw pictures to go along with them.”

“What were they about?”

After taking a minute to try to remember, Trubel chuckles. “Ya know, I think they might have been about wesen.”

“Really?”

“After they were killed, I tried to block it all out. It hurt too much to remember. By the time I met you and learned about being a grimm, it was buried so deep it never even crossed my mind. But now… I think it was her way of preparing me.”

“She must’ve been the grimm.”

Trubel nods. “Probably. I wonder if my dad knew.”

“Well, if I’ve learned anything about this life, it’s that you can’t hide it forever.”

“He must’ve loved her a lot if he knew how dangerous it could be but stayed anyway.”

“Yeah,” Nick says, pausing to clear his throat, “I’m sure he did.”

Without a word, Trubel leans over, closing the small gap between them, and lays her head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she says softly. She is not sure how they got to this point in their conversation from where they started, but she is glad they did. Even though she knows this conversation never should have been about her, it feels good to have talked about her parents for the first time in years.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I regret writing this.  
> I cried through writing like half of this.  
> I'm sorry.


	4. Chapter 4

When Trubel wakes up, her head is on Nick’s shoulder, her arm is on his chest, and one of his is around her shoulders. A big part of her wants to run away, knowing this is not right, at least not right now. But there is a bigger part of her that just feels safe -- that is the part of herself she gives into. She stays put, taking a deep breath and letting herself close her eyes and drift back to sleep.

When Nick wakes up, his lips are lazily perked up in a smile though he is unsure why. Then, he looks down to find Trubel curled up against his side. His is unsure about when that happened, but he cannot find it in himself to care. There is a part of him that wants to turn his head and kiss her forehead. He does not. He knows the feeling is only a side effect of the longing he has felt for far too long. There was a time when he woke up next to someone he loved every morning; he would roll over, kiss her forehead, and wait for that sleepy “good morning” that melted his heart every time. But that ended a long time ago. Besides, he thinks, _I’m lying next to the woman who just killed the girlfriend I used to love more than anything_. He rolls his eyes at the thought. _That wasn’t Juliette; you know that_.

With a groan, Trubel’s looks up at Nick and then stretches her cramped limbs. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay,” Nick says, looking away. “I didn’t mind.”

“So, uh, what do we do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do we just sit in this motel room for the day? Do we go get breakfast? I just… Where do we go from here?”

Nick takes a deep breath and rubs his hands over his face. “Uh… I guess we’ll go get some breakfast.”

After they both shower, Nick checks out and they head over to VooDoo for breakfast. They eat outside, leaning up against the truck, until it starts to rain, forcing them inside. Trubel props her feet up on the dashboard and finishes her third doughnut.

“I was thinking we might swing by the shop and see how Monroe and Rosalee are doing,” Nick says before shoving the last of his doughnut in his mouth.

Trubel nods, her gaze fixed on a puddle that’s starting to form in the open spot next to them.

“What’s wrong,” Nick asks, reaching over and laying his hand on Trubel’s shoulder.

“Nothing.” She fakes a smile.

“Please don’t lie to me.”

Sighing, she says, “Rosalee hates me. I know she does.”

“Why would say that?”

“I took away her best friend. I saw the way she looked at me.”

Nick shifts, turning his body towards her. “I think she was just shocked. We all were...are. When you asked what to do if we found her and I said to kill her, I meant it, even though I never thought it would come to that. Even as angry as I was, even as much as I wanted her to pay, I never thought it would end like that. I know Rosalee feels the same. None of us are mad at you, Theresa. If anything, we’re mad at Kenneth and Adalind and Juliette herself. They all had a hand in this. I think Rosalee is probably also blaming herself since she was the one who helped me get my powers back.” Nick pauses. “When it all comes down to it, it’s Adalind’s fault.”

“Then why are you so protective of her?”

“She’s carrying my child. As much as I’m angry with her, it’s not the child’s fault. He never asked to be brought into this mess. I can’t take it out on him. I, uh, always wanted kids. Juliette never thought it was the right time, especially after all the grimm stuff.” He sighs, leaning back against the door. “I guess I’m just trying to hold on to the one good thing that’s come from this.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, she looks away again.

“Theresa, let me in.”

Nick using her real name throws her off. It puts her on defense, feeling too vulnerable, but it also relaxes her, knowing she’s gotten this close to him. She looks over at him, her eyes starting to get red and puffy. “I want to come back to Portland.”

Nick smiles. “I’d like that.”

“But I can’t just leave Josh to fend for himself. I already feel guilty for leaving him and it’s only been a few days.”

Nick takes a deep breath, giving himself a moment to think. “So go get him and bring him back.”

“But, Nick.”

“After all of this, I’m not sure anyone’s gonna come mess with you or me. Monroe and I can teach him about weapons. He can work in the shop with Rosalee and learn about cures and stuff. You can keep teaching him about wesen. Maybe he’s not a grimm yet -- or even at all -- but we can make him ready.”

Trubel nods. “Where would we live?”

“With me.”

“Nick, I can’t live in that house. I’m sorry. I appreciate the offer, but I just...can’t.”

“Neither can I. I’ll see if I can find a place to rent until all this clears up. Then we can all go look for a place. It’ll be like _Full House_.

“Like what?”

“I’ve gotta get you Netflix or, at least, cable. Anyway, what do you say?”

“I’ll talk it over with Josh. I want to make sure he’s okay with it first.”

“Yeah,” Nick starts, “of course.” He shuffles so he is facing the wheel. Putting the keys in the ignition, he starts the truck but makes no effort to actually leave. His hands are on the wheel, but he just stares straight ahead.

“Nick?” Trubel asks hesitantly.

“I…” he pauses. “I don’t know if I can do this.” He looks over at her, trying not to let any tears fall.

“Do what?” This change in Nick scares Trubel; he was well put together just a moment ago and now, he looks like he’s going to fall apart. It was obvious how broken up he was when everything happened last night, so she thought it was odd he was so composed last night when they were alone. Now, she is just confused. She knows he is going through a lot, but the abrupt change in mood scares her; she does not know what he is going to do next.

Leaning forward, Nick lays his head on his hands. A moment barely passes before Trubel watches his body start to shake, hears the muffled sobbing. She slides across the seat and practically curls her body around his, as if trying to protect him from the world, which, in a way, she is. She pulls him close to her, holds him tightly. Eventually, he leans into her, turns his body, lays his head on her shoulder. Trubel had expected this; she knew it was only a matter of time before he dropped the whole stoic act and let himself grieve. Now, it is time for her to pay him back for all he has done for her by doing it for him.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Rosalee wakes up in a cold sweat, tears streaming down her face. Monroe is awake not five seconds later, wrapping his arms around his wife and holding her close. Her body shakes as she grips Monroe’s shirt as tightly as she can, as if holding on so he does not fade away. Tears invade Monroe’s eyes; he has never seen anything bother Rosalee this much.

“It’s okay. _You’re_ okay. You’re with me, Rosalee.” Monroe presses a kiss to her temple.

Once Rosalee takes a moment to look around and get a grasp on her surroundings, she is able to calm down. She stays in Monroe’s arms; her grip on his shirt loosens, and she buries her face in the crook of his neck. Taking a few deep breaths, she steadies herself.

“You okay?” Monroe finally asks.

Rosalee nods, silent.

“You want to talk about it?” When Rosalee shakes her head, Monroe follows up with, “Do you want to try going back to sleep?” When she shakes her head again, Monroe checks the time and then says, “How about I go put on some coffee and we head into the shop early? We can get a head start on inventory.”

“Yeah,” Rosalee says, her voice small.

He is not fond of the idea of leaving Rosalee right now, but he does. He goes down stairs and into the kitchen, putting on coffee and placing a couple muffins in the oven to warm them up. He putters around for a bit before returning to the bedroom. Rosalee is in the middle of getting dressed; her wet hair is tied up in an uncharacteristic messy bun that makes Monroe scrunch up his face.

“What?” Rosalee asks.

Monroe shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s just different to see you with your hair up like that.”

“Just didn’t feel like doing it today.”

“You still look beautiful. Doesn’t matter what you do,” he says, walking over and putting his arms around her waist. He dips his head down and kisses the nape of her neck.

Rosalee takes a deep breath, concentrating on the air filling her lungs and then leaving her body. She forces her lips into a smile and turns around, leaning up on her toes and kissing her husband’s cheek.

“Coffee should be ready, and there are muffins warming in the oven. Give me a few minutes and then we’ll head out.”

With a nod, Rosalee walks out of the room. Monroe rubs his hands over his face and then goes into the bathroom. He manages to shower and get ready in a record amount of time. When he walks into the kitchen, he finds Rosalee sitting at the table with two travel mugs and two muffins, each wrapped in a napkin, in front of her.

“You ready?”

Rosalee nods and gets up, grabbing one of the mugs and one of the muffins and handing them to Monroe. She grabs the remaining set and takes them for herself. Monroe, as usual, drives across town, pulling up behind the shop, and Rosalee fishes her keys out of her pocket and lets them inside.

The day drags on, which Rosalee and Monroe both knew would happen. Rosalee feels as if she is operating solely on autopilot. It is not until she drops a jar of viscum coloratum that she comes out of her daze. Monroe is quick to grab the broom and dustpan, sweeping away the mess.

Handing the pen and clipboard to Rosalee, Monroe takes over counting the jars. They make it through two shelves before they are interrupted by Monroe’s phone. Before opening the text message, he checks the time; it is just after nine.

_TRUBEL: Just wanted to check in. You guys okay?”_

_MONROE: Rosalee is still pretty shaken up. We’ll be okay, though. How’re you guys?_

_TRUBEL: Nick finally stopped pretending to be okay. Never seen him like this._

_MONROE: Can you handle this? You have Hank’s number, right?_

_TRUBEL: Doing my best and yeah._

_MONROE: You okay?_

_TRUBEL: Okay enough I guess. Gotta_ take _care of Nick so I don’t have a choice._

 _MONROE: I get that. Gotta_ get _back to inventory. We’ll talk later, okay?_

_TRUBEL: Okay._

“Nick?”

“Huh?” Monroe looks up as he slips his phone back in his pocket. “No. It was Trubel.”

“Oh. Everything okay?”

Monroe shrugs. “I guess it’s finally setting in for Nick.”

“Adrenaline and shock only take you so far.” Rosalee’s gaze is set on the paper in front of her, on which she has begun doodling in the margins.

“I think Trubel is worried but just won’t say anything.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you think she’s worried?”

Monroe shrugs again. “It’s just the vibe I get.”

“And why don’t you think she’ll say anything?”

He sighs before answering, giving himself a moment to compose an answer. “Maybe she thinks if she asks for help or confesses her feelings that someone might tell her it’s her own fault, that she did this.” Monroe looks away, pretending to straighten the jars on the shelf. “Plus, I think she’s so determined to take care of Nick like he took care of her, and she probably knows everyone is grieving and she doesn’t want to bother anyone.”

“How much nepeta agrestis do we have?” Rosalee asks, needing to change the subject.

“Uh,” Monroe says, pausing to check the shelf, “not much.” He holds up a half-empty jar. Sighing, he places the jar back on the shelf and turns to face Rosalee. “I just feel so bad for her. She’s only twenty-two and she’s been through so much already.”

Rosalee slams her fist on the counter, making a few jars rattle. “We’ve all been through a lot; we’ve all seen a lot; we’ve all done a lot.” She takes a few deep breaths, but cannot seem to calm down. “When I was her age, I was on my way to a Jay addiction. I can’t even remember half the shit I did.” She pauses. “And what about you?”

Monroe stares, wide-eyed. He trips over his words, but finally says, “What about me what?”

You’ve been through a lot, too: Angelina, her brother, Larry, the blutbaden killed by that chef, the wesenrein kidnapping you. I’m sure there are things you haven’t told me. But you and I turned out just fine.”

“Have we?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Neither of us are talking about any of this. You bottled it up and now you’re exploding.”

“What are you getting at Monroe?”

He sighs. “I’m just saying that...I don’t know. You know what, Rosalee, stay mad at her, let it eat you up. If you don’t want to confide in me, that’s fine, but I’m not gonna stand here and let you yell at me. You seem to have forgotten -- despite just mentioning -- I’ve lost every best friend I’ve ever had save for you and Nick, and I’m constantly afraid that will change. So excuse me for thinking I might actually understand how you feel.”

Without giving Rosalee time to respond, Monroe turns and walks into the back of the shop and then out the back door. When it clicks shut behind him, he already regrets it. But rather than swallowing his pride, he gets in his car, letting his sad, angry heart lead the way. As he drives, he realizes he never asked Trubel where they were staying; he already knows Nick would not have stayed in his house. He pulls into the lot next to VooDoo and as he  is pulling out his phone, he spots Nick’s truck.

He is surprised (but not really) when he walks up to Nick’s truck and finds his best friend slumped over, head on Trubel’s shoulder, crying so hard his body is shaking. He taps on the window and Trubel looks up.

“Nick,” Trubel says, her voice soft, soothing almost. “Monroe is here.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Rosalee is slightly out of character, but that's what grief can do. Plus, everyone has a breaking point; eventually, everyone just snaps.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter (the shortest so far), but it ended right where it needed to.

At first, Nick makes no effort to move, to lift his head and look at his best friend. His head stays down, hands stay on Trubel’s legs, near her hips, where they had fallen after he was too tired to keep hugging her. He takes a few breaths, one after another, until he calms down enough to keep the tears from falling. He is quick to fry his face -- a way for him to pretend he has gained his composure.

When Nick sits up, Trubel reaches across his lap and rolls down the window enough to invite Monroe to sit in the back seat.

After getting in, Monroe runs a hand through his damp hair, pushing a wayward curl from his forehead. The silence is unnerving so he breaks it. “Uh, hey.”

“Hey, Monroe,” Trubel says. “What’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing. Why?”

“You said you’d text me later, but here you are.” She scrunches up her face. “How’d you find us?”

“Actually, I just sort of stumbled upon you. I was coming to see you, but you never said where you were staying. I pulled over here to call you, but then I saw the truck.”

“Okay. So, why were you looking for us?”

“I, uh, just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Trubel knows Monroe is not telling her everything -- she can hear it in his voice -- but lets it go.

“You know what?” Trubel starts. “I could go for another coffee. I’ll buy this round.” Getting out of the truck, Trubel turns her collar against the rain and leaves the guys to talk.

“Why are you really here, Monroe?” Nick asks.

“I just wanted -- needed, really -- to make sure you guys were okay.”

“I know you’re not telling me something.”

“Okay, fine.” He sighs. “Rosalee and I got in a fight.”

“About what?”

“About everything that’s happened. She’s shutting me out, acting like she’s the only one suffering, like I don’t know what it’s like to lose a friend.”

Nick finally turns, looking at Monroe with sad, tired eyes. Caught up in his own grief, he never considered how this must be for Monroe, who has lost so many friends.

“Don’t give me that look, man. I’m fine. I told her I was worried about Trubel because she’s so young and has gone through so much. Rosalee made it seem like Trubel has no right to be hurting because some people have had worse. I know what it’s like to get caught up in your own grief; you remember how angry I was after Hap.” Monroe looks out the window, looking to see if Trubel was coming yet. “Rosalee is mad at her, she’s gonna let it eat her up inside. I don’t know how to help; I hate that.”

“Are you mad at her?”

“Trubel? No. She did what she had to do, what none of the rest of us could do. The only thing that makes me mad is that it had to go this far.” Monroe pauses, considering if he should ask Nick the same question. “What about you? Are you mad at her?”

Nick shakes his head. “She only did what I told her. I’m mad it ended this way, too, but I’m not mad at her specifically.” When Nick turns back to the window, he watches as Trubel crosses the parking lot with a tray of coffee and a bag he knows holds more doughnuts.

When Trubel gets back inside, she offers a coffee to both men. “Sugar, no cream for Monroe, and light and sweet for Nick, right?”

Monroe and Nick both nod and smile.

“Help yourself to the doughnuts, Monroe. Got a half dozen -- all vegan.”

“Thanks,” Monroe says, reaching into the bag and pulling out a doughnut.

“Did you guys get to have enough boy talk while I was gone?”

Nick and Monroe looks at each other and then at Trubel, both nodding nonchalantly.

Silence grows between them, leaving just the pattering of raindrops on the windows and the occasional sipping noise. It is a comfortable silence, each of them finding solace in the company of the other two.

 _It’s okay_ , Nick thinks. _This can be okay._ I _can be okay._  He lays his head back against the headrest and sighs, somehow content in the moment.

Trubel pulls out a doughnut from the bag and then curls up in the corner where the seat and door almost meet; it gives her a good view of both Nick and Monroe. It is the first time she has ever really looked at Monroe long enough to take in every detail. It is his kind eyes that she assumes is what drew Rosalee to him first. From far away they just look like your average brown eyes, but up close, Trubel finds they are like the embodiment of autumn and all its warm colors.

Then she looks at Nick -- this man who took her in, gave her a second chance at life. Unlike with Monroe, Trubel has, on a few occasions, looked at Nick long and hard. His normally bright blue eyes are icy, bloodshot, and tired. His face looks worn and there are dark circles under his eyes that were not there the last time she saw him. She has also noticed the faintest dab of blood on his bottom lip -- no doubt from how he has been chewing on it.

These two men who have helped her and done so much for her, who she cares about truly and deeply, are hurting because of something she did. The guilt she has been trying so hard to shove in the back of her mind starts to push forward, filling her entire body, weighing her down with the weight of the life she has taken. And, finally, her stoic façade crumbles.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

At first, she tries to hide it; she pulls her feet up onto the seat so her knees are up near her face, and then she she crosses her arms over them, and finally, she lays her head down. She focuses on breathing -- keeping each inhale and exhale even and steady. Then, she focuses on Nick. _You kept him safe. You saved his life. You did this because you_  had _to_.

But then starts to think about Nick’s unwillingness to stay in his house. She knows he will end up moving out. No home, no girlfriend. There is a big, gaping hole in Nick’s life and Trubel was the one who put it there. _Or did I_ , she thinks. _I didn’t turn Juliette into a_ hexenbiest _. I didn’t make her lose control._

Her thoughts are scattered, conflicted, and bounce around her mind too quickly for her to fully process. She hates this feeling. Remembering the time after her parents were killed, she tries to pick one thought to concentrate on -- her social worker had suggested it as a way to cope. She tries to push all the bad thoughts away, focusing on the good. Her mind goes back to the day she said goodbye to Nick; although it was sad to be leaving Nick, she was happy to have gotten so much from him and to know she was important enough to him that he would give his aunt’s truck to her. But it does not help; it only makes her think of how unbalanced her friendship with Nick has been.  

Trubel is vaguely aware of a voice. She cannot tell what it is saying; she does not really care either. But it is a familiar voice, a comforting voice.

“Trubel,” the voice says. “Trubel!”

It is not until there is a hand on her shoulder and the voice is right by her ear that she remembers who it belongs to.

“Trubel,” Nick says, almost pleading. “Trubel, look at me. Are you okay? Say something. Please.” His voice cracks on the last word.

Finally, Trubel looks up. At first, she just tilts up her head. She looks right at him but does not see him; she is still in lost inside her own mind. But the more she hears his voice, the more the cloudiness of her mind fades.

Monroe is still in the back seat, but he is now leaning forward enough that he is almost shoulder-to-shoulder with Nick. His lips are bent into a frown and his eyes are soft. He wants to reach out, lay a comforting hand on Trubel’s shoulder, but he does not. Instead, he watches Nick move the hand he has on Trubel’s shoulder to her knee. Then he watches as the other one comes up and lies on top of Trubel’s hand, his thumb rubbing over hers.

“Hey, look at me.”

Trubel looks up at Nick, finally meeting his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

Trubel opens her mouth to speak, but the words fail to come out. She takes a few deep breaths, calming herself enough to speak. After a moment, she finally speaks. “You’ve done so much for me,” she starts, “and I…” She looks away, unable to bear it. “I took so much away from you.”

Nick wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, so she is leaning against his chest with her head on his shoulder. Nick looks to Monroe, who nods towards the door. When Nick nods, Monroe quietly slips away and into his own car.

Nick and Trubel stay curled up, not speaking. There is so much Nick wants to say -- most of all, that Trubel, rather than taking someone away from him, saved him from a situation he would not have been able to get himself out of -- but know that none of it means anything right now; what is important now is that he shows Trubel he is here for her and is not going to leave her. Hesitantly, he dips his head and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

They sit there, curled up together, for what feels like forever but is actually less than an hour. Trubel wipes her cheeks and sits up, gently pulling away from Nick’s hold. Her eyes are slow to meet his, but when they do, her worries start to fade. She sees kindness, forgiveness. But there is something else there she cannot quite make out -- something that was not there before.

“We should, uh, probably head into the station. The Captain will want to see us.”

“Yeah.” Trubel nods, shifting so she is properly sitting in her seat.

It is a long, quiet drive across town and then a long, drawn-out visit to the station. Despite answering what felt like a million questions last night, Trubel and Nick both have to go through the details again with the officers assigned to their case.

They let Nick out first and finds a seat on the bench on the lobby, not-so-patiently waiting for Trubel. Anxious, he gets up and paces. Back and forth. Back and forth. He only stops when someone steps in front of him, blocking his way. When he looks up, he finds Hank looking at him with a raised brow.

“They haven’t let Trubel out yet, have they?”

Nick shakes his head.

“So, how you holding up?” Hank asks as he takes a seat on the bench.

Nick shrugs. When the expectant look on Hank’s face remains, Nick sighs and sits down next to him.

“I’m doing as well as I can be, I guess.”

“Just remember that there are still people in your life who care about you, support you, and are here for you.”

“I know.” Nick nods. “I keep telling myself that I have to be okay. I lost her way before I actually lost her...if that makes sense.”

“Yeah, it does. You lost her the minute she became...what she did.” Hank’s eyes scan the hallway, making sure no one was paying attention enough to hear him almost slip.

“No,” Nick starts, shaking his head. “I lost her the day I became what I am.” He looks over at Hank. “My Aunt Marie and and mom both told me I would lose her to this life. I never wanted to believe them; I wanted to think we could beat the odds. But here we are.”

Hank reaches out and lays his hand on Nick’s shoulder, but before he can say anything, Trubel is walking down the hall, coming towards them. Nick jumps up, already bombarding her with questions.

Hank leans forward. “Chill, Nick. I’m sure she’s been asked enough questions and will tell you what happened.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Nick sighs.

“Do you think we could just get out of here?” Trubel asks, her hand coming up to rub the back of her neck as she looks down at her feet.

“Sure. Let’s go grab some lunch.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

Nick pulls into a drive-thru and orders them a couple burgers, sodas, and a mess of fries. They head over to the motel and eat their lunch much like they are their dinner the night before.

“You know,” Nick starts, trying to ease the silence that has been looming all day, “I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of these burgers.”

“Yeah,” Trubel says around a mouth of food.

Silence grows between them once again. Nick wants to ask Trubel how it went at the precinct, but he can tell it is not something she wants to talk about, knowing that if it were, she would have brought it up. He always wants to talk about this morning in the VooDoo parking lot.

“Can we talk about this morning?”

Trubel shrugs, not wanting to talk about it but knowing she cannot avoid it.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about you. Mostly, I just want to apologize.”

Trubel frowns. “For what?”

“For losing it so abruptly -- one minute we were talking about you and Josh moving to Portland and then...”

“It’s okay, Nick. You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” She sighs, putting down her food and reaching across the bed to lay her hand on Nick’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I do,” he mumbles. “I’ve got a lot to be sorry for.” He pulls away from Trubel, stands, and starts pacing next to the bed.

“Everyone grieves differently. If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine, I get it. But, Nick, you don’t have to apologize for it...not to me.” She looks away. Getting up, she walks over to the window and looks outside, watches the rain.

Silence fills the room again, and Nick realizes just how bad he is at this. There is so much he wants to say to Trubel, so much more that he _needs_  to say: An apology for dragging her into this and making her do his dirty work, an apology for all his mood swings, but most of all, an apology for what he wants to do right now.

 _Despicable -- that’s what you are_ ”, Nick thinks. _Even if you don’t act on it, you’re absolutely despicable_.

He looks over his shoulder, eyes outlining Trubel’s figure -- her short hair, her baggy hoodie ( _wait, is that mine?_ ), ripped jeans, scuffed boots. Looking away, his eyes settle on his feet. He tries to think of the last time he said “I love you” to Juliette. Then, he tries to think of the last time he not only loved her but was _in love_ with her. The answer makes him frown, makes him wonder if maybe it was all out of spite. The two most important women in his life (one of whom is dead because of Juliette) said he would have to let her go, that it would never work, that he would lose her to this world. _No_ , he thinks, _I really did love her_.

Sitting down, with his back towards Trubel, Nick wonders what they would think of this, of Trubel, of the possibility of a future with her. But that thought makes him feel guilty. He hangs his head, hiding his face behind his hands, elbows propped on his knees.

The bed dips down, and a hand comes up to lie on Nick’s back and then slips around his waist. She is reluctant to do it, but Trubel rests her head on Nick’s shoulder. It is close, intimate, something she would normally shy away from, but with everything that has happened in the last couple days, her guard is down, at least for Nick.

Nick turns his head, his eyes meeting Trubel’s, his nose almost brushing hers. Finally, he gives in. Closing the barely-there gap between them, Nick presses his lips to Trubel’s. There is a brief moment of panic that she will reject him.

Trubel would be lying if she said she had not thought about kissing Nick, but she certainly did not think it would be in a situation like this. At first, she is shocked. It is brief, just like the panic that follows. But then she finds herself leaning into him, wrapping her other arm around him, and kissing him back.

Relief floods through Nick’s body when Trubel kisses back. There is something comforting about kissing her in this mediocre motel room. He used to feel as though he had to find a way to woo Juliette, which never went as planned – like when he took Juliette to the cabin to propose and got wrapped up with the seltenvogel. But with Trubel, there is none of that. He has never, even as a friend, felt like he has had to be someone other than himself.

One hand comes up to cup her jaw, lifting her head from his shoulder so he can kiss her more properly. Trubel’s hands, still around Nick’s waist, fist in the fabric of his shirt, grounding herself in the moment. But then the panic returns and she is pulling away.

“We’re rushing.”

“Oh god.” Nick groans and swears under his breath. “Shit. I know. I’m sorry.” He leans away from her and reclaims his hands, running one through this hair.

Silence lingers between them until it becomes too much, until Trubel cannot think of anything but Nick – his hands, his lips, the way he makes her safe.

“But,” Trubel starts, waiting to regain Nick’s attention. “When you’re a grimm, you don’t get as much time to waste.” She bites her lips, looking at Nick with hopeful (but desperate) eyes.

Nick’s hands are on her, slipping beneath her hoodie and caressing hot skin. Trubel leans back, pulling Nick with her, until her back is against the bed. One of Nick’s hands slides to her hip, then grips her thigh; she wraps her leg around him. His lips move from hers to her neck.

Trubel’s hands run down Nick’s chest and slip beneath the hem of his sweatshirt, lifting and tugging until Nick sits up and pulls it off, letting his t-shirt go along with it. Trubel sits up and then reaches out, hand curling around the back of Nick’s neck, and pulls Nick close.

His lips are back on hers and they kiss until they are out of breath. When they pause, Nick slips his hands under Trubel’s hoodie and pulls it off. Her shirt gets stuck around her face and when Nick pulls it off, they both laugh. There are a few scars on her shoulder; he can only see where they start, but he knows they extend over her shoulder to her back. He already knows they are from a wesen. He reaches out, running a light finger over them.

“Klaustreich. I was like 16. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Please tell me his head is no longer attached to his body.” Nick’s face hardens, but when Trubel’s hand comes up to cup his jaw, it fades away.

“Actually, he’s only missing a hand.” Trubel shrugs. “I ran as soon as I could and never looked back.”

“Where?”

“Chicago.”

Nick leans forward and kisses her shoulder. Her hands slip down to his waist and unbutton his jeans. It is slightly awkward as they both wiggle out of their pants. Trubel lies back and Nick follows, kissing her lips, neck, chest. As Trubel arches her back, Nick slips his hand beneath her and unhooks her bra, tossing it aside without his lips ever leaving her skin.

He works his way further down her body, hooking his fingers under the waist of her panties, slipping them off when she raises her hips. He kisses up one thigh and then down the other. Working back up, he meets her lips. He pulls away only to toss aside the rest of his clothes.

“You sure?” Nick asks, his hands still, waiting.

“Yeah.” Trubel nods as her hand come up to cup his jaw, thumb rubbing over stubble.

When they make love, it’s not frantic or rushed; it is unlike most of Trubel’s sexual encounters. She wraps her legs around Nick’s waist and pulls him closer, deeper. Sliding her hands back up his body, they settle around his neck. Her lips perk into a smile and when she sees that Nick has noticed, her cheeks blush. He cups her jaw and then leans down to kiss her.

He watches as her chest starts to rise and fall more quickly and feels her nails dig into his back. He tries to keep his thrusts steady, at least until he feels her clench around him, which is enough to push him right over the edge.

They lie in bed together, limbs tangled, unsure of what the future holds for them. It could be good; it could be bad; it could be a little of both. Nick knows that, despite everything that has happened in the last couple days, this is how he wants the rest of his life to be (though maybe in a house rather than a motel room). Trubel feels much the same. She hates how most of this happened, but she cannot find it in herself to focus on anything but this moment and how good she feels, how good, happy, safe Nick makes her feel.

The sun is starting to go down when Trubel sits up and grabs her phone from the nightstand.

“What’re you doing?”

“Calling Josh. I gotta tell him we’re moving back to Portland.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Juliette died. I'm sorry...sort of.


End file.
